


To Denerim

by miss_moneypenny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_moneypenny/pseuds/miss_moneypenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisition visits Denerim and discovers that the Fereldan court can be as treacherous as their Orlesian counterpart. All the while, the Inquisitor is desperate to help Cullen through his lyrium withdrawal, but politics soon begin to interfere with her efforts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Invitation

_Inquisitor,_  
  
_Delicate negotiations indeed! I felt like a bronto thrashing around in china shop, which also happens to describe my dancing skills, so thank the Maker you had sent along Inquisition support. Jader might have been obliterated by all those touchy Orelsian tempers otherwise. Now, to business: I do feel like it is high time we met, and I must confess, I’m curious to meet the famous Herald of Andraste. We will be holding a weeklong celebration for the tenth anniversary of my reign, and I will be honoured to host the Inquisitor in Denerim. We can’t let Celene have all the fun, now can we? No masks necessary._  
  
_King Alistair Theirin_  
   
For a moment, the war room in Skyhold was in complete silence. It’s inquisitor, Evelyn Trevelyan, was willing to stake her throne that all her councilors were remembering the last royal gathering they had attended together. While everyone agreed that the results of the winter ball at Halamshiral were a success, the path there had been bloodier than expected.  
   
Josephine lowered the thick parchment and raised her eyebrow at Leliana. “About time an invitation was extended, wouldn’t you say?”  
   
“My sources say that it was Arl Eamon pressuring the King into holding this party,” Leliana said, reaching out to take the parchment and adding it neatly to a growing stack of already read letters.  
   
“Nevertheless, we should consider the implications of accepting such an offer. If we refuse, it will be seen as a slight to Fereldan after our visit to Halamshiral, but if we accept, it is likely that other nations will rise to the occasion and extend more invitations to the inquisition. We cannot be seen as favouring one nation over the other, and yet there isn’t the time to accept invitations from everyone,” Josephine began, her eyes lighting up.  
   
On the other side of the war table, Evelyn struggled not to sigh. Josephine was only warming up on the subject of friendly expeditions to the nations of Thedas in an attempt to win more support for the Inquisition. It was an admirable project of hers, but one that could wait in favour of closing fade rifts and ridding Thedas of venatori mages, red templars, and most urgently, Corypheus. Her eyes wandered across the war table, past the figures carved to represent her advisors, past the northern edge of Thedas, to rest upon the advisor who was always a welcome distraction.  
   
Cullen was looking down at the map, a tiny grimace on his lips. She hoped that he was not in pain; he had disclosed to her recently that he was no longer taking lyrium. Feeling her gaze, he looked up at Evelyn, and she gave him a small smile. She would have sworn he gave her the barest of smiles in return.  
   
“The nobility of all the nations will certainly be more willing to support the inquisition if they had the opportunity to meet personally with the Inquisitor. At the moment we just appear to be an upstart organization, but the Inquisitor has the bloodline to convince –”  
   
“Josephine,” Evelyn interrupted, finally looking away from Cullen, “Ostwick is hardly known for it’s ancient nobility and pure bloodlines.”  
   
“It will have to do,” Leliana said with finality. “King Alistair himself has questionable heritage, and Celene attained the throne not through birthright but by playing the game. The other nations will follow their example and respect you. I suggest you accept the invitation – you might even enjoy yourself. The king is an amusing man, and he holds a far simpler court than Celene’s.”  
   
“I concur,” Josephine said at once. “There are many favours to be had from a diplomatic trip such as this, even in a backwater such as Denerim. Cullen, what are your thoughts?”  
   
He gave a small start and hooked his thumbs through his belt, trying to regain his footing. “Well, if the council and the Inquisitor agrees, I will begin making arrangements for travel and security.”  
   
“Very good. As for our costumes,” Josephine eyed Evelyn up and down, and then turned to do the same to Leliana. “The uniforms we wore to the winter palace were most unflattering. I suggest we hire a seamstress to fit the ladies with something more fashionable, perhaps something more Fereldish than Orlesian…”  
   
Evelyn shot another dubious look at Cullen, who was now slowly edging behind Leliana, a hand at his temple, no doubt trying to make his escape. She wanted to give him a distraction from his pain, to do anything that would take his mind off of it for a moment. “Josie,” she said sweetly. “What do you think our gallant commander should wear?”  
   
“The dress uniform was fine,” Cullen said, starting to colour around his ears as three pairs of female eyes focused intently upon him. He continued to edge to the door. “Although it was slightly tight around the collar, perhaps it could be let out?”  
   
“It’s a weeklong event!” Leliana threw her arms up in mock horror. “The commander of the Inquisition cannot wear the same outfit every night!”  
   
Cullen was now past the threshold of the room, and looking pleased that he had escaped. “Different colours, then?” And then he was gone, briskly heading in the direction of his study.  
   
Evelyn suddenly felt a little empty, but she hoped she could manage a straight face. Evidently she could not, because her two female advisors were looking at her knowing, wickedly gleaming eyes.  
   
“Go and play with your commander,” Leliana said, almost managing to hold back a giggle. “Tomorrow we will start the fittings for your wardrobe. Maybe you can even teach him how to dance properly before we arrive in Denerim.” 

Thankful, Evelyn turned on her heel and strode from the room, but not before she heard Josephine also collapsing into giggles. “Inquisitor, do take care with the commander’s sword while at play, he spends much of his time polishing it and you wouldn’t want to get it dirty….”  
   
“Get a better metaphor,” Evelyn snapped back, and lengthened her stride until she was past Josephine’s study. She could hear then both now positively howling with laughter, and one of them was pounding the table, incoherent. Once she rounded the corner and was out into the great hall, she allowed herself a moment of anxiety as took the shortcut through Solas’ rotunda to Cullen’s office. Ever since Cullen revealed that he stopped taking lyrium, it took much of her self-control not to hover over him and worry. Together, she and Cassandra watched him from a distance, not wanting to interfere or belittle his efforts, but needing to be there, just in case.  
   
CRASH.  
   
Evelyn barely managed to dodge the dark object that flew past her head and shattered on the doorframe next to her as she stepped into Cullen’s study. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized with sinking feeling that Cullen was staring at her, a horrified expression on his face.  
   
“Maker’s breath, I didn’t hear you enter,” he said, gripping the edge of his desk with desperate hands. “Forgive me.”

“I’m sure the box had it coming,” She said lightly, coming around to his side and reaching up to touch his cheek. She hoped he could hear the understanding in her voice.  
   
Cullen caught up her hand and brought it to his lips, and she could feel his fingers tremble around hers. “I swear I didn’t know you were here,” he said, and to her surprise, he brought his face down to hers and pressed her into a firm kiss, while his hand slid up into her hair, pressing her closer still. He took a step forward, pushing Evelyn into his bookshelf, uncaring of the shattered wood and glass beneath their feet. She felt, rather than saw, a large volume tumble to the floor beside her as he pressed up deliciously along the length of her body. She felt weak at the knees as his stubble grazed the side of her face, and nearly collapsed when he breathed into her ear, “I’ve been waiting all day for a chance to…”  
   
“To?” She managed to breathe. Her heart was thundering so loudly in her chest she wondered how she managed to hear him over it. Cullen was always so gentle, so chivalrous when they were together, and this darker, more insistent side of him excited her. She moved her hands up into his hair and gripped into his curls tightly when he lunged towards her mouth again and bit down hard on her lower lip.  
   
Cullen growled wordlessly against her lips for a moment. “Every thought of lyrium disappears when I am with you, I only feel whole when you are here.” He trailed his lips across the soft skin of her jaw, gently, and nipped at her earlobe.  
   
Evelyn could not hold back a small gasp; she felt that bite travel straight down to her core. In a corner of her hazy, aroused mind, she felt like he wanted to devour her whole, to drink her down like a philter of lyrium, to satiate his desire for it with her instead. She couldn’t explore the implications of that particular thought, because Cullen pulled her around and pushed her back until she fell, sitting, onto his desk.  
   
She blinked up at him in surprise as he stepped closer to her, pushing himself between her legs, and she could feel his hardness press into her thigh. It wasn’t as if she was inexperienced, but Cullen had always held a part of himself back, and now he was looking down at her with a dark animal hunger in his eyes. He cupped her face, more gently than she expected for his current mood, and looked into her eyes. “Evelyn…I need you,” he said shakily. “I –”  
   
Unable to hold herself back, she reached up to his shoulders, trailing her fingers through the fur of his cloak, and pushed it off of him. Cullen held her gaze for a beat, gauging her assent, then reached around her and flung the contents of his desk to the floor with one great swipe of his arm. An inkpot crashed to the floor, joining the remains of his lyrium kit, and his papers flew like a whirlwind before settling on the ground.

Turning back to her, he began to undo the golden clasps of her shirt, only to give a groan of frustration before ripping apart the remaining buttons. They bounced and skittered across the stone floor, and as her gaze followed one landing by the door, Evelyn realized with a jolt that the door was still ajar.  
   
“Cullen,” she gasped, as he began unwinding her breast band in short, sharp jerks. “What if someone walks in?”  
   
“Leave it!” he commanded, throwing aside the scrap of silk and lowering his face to her breasts. Evelyn inhaled sharply and thoughts of being discovered flew from her mind as he took a nipple into his mouth. She arched her back, pushing herself closer into him, feeling each stroke of his tongue resonate deep inside her. His hands travelled down her back, pausing to grip at her hips painfully, before he began to push down at the waistband of her trousers. She obliged him and raised herself off the table slightly, and he threw her pants behind him once they were free.

Then she heard the jangle of his belt before he pushed his own pants down, and suddenly, gloriously, he was standing before her wearing only his chest plate, his cock engorged and no doubt throbbing with a need that echoed the heat that burned between her legs. Evelyn reached out and slid her hand down over his shaft and felt him buck into her slightly. 

“Evelyn,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes sliding shut in pleasure when she continued to stoke him up and down. “I wanted…I wanted our first time to be…”

“Shut up,” she managed to get out between quick, heated breaths. "I want you now, please...just, oh please..." 

Cullen's fingers moved down over her belly and slid between her legs. "You are so wet," he groaned, slipping his fingers into her. 

She threw her head back at this new sensation, biting her lip. "Please..." She begged. "Cullen, oh Maker, Andraste, please...." 

And suddenly, there was a moment of emptiness before her prayers were answered. She felt him at her entrance before he slowly, agonizingly, deliciously pushed himself into her. There was no time for fumbling and sweetness; there was just hot desire and need between them. Somewhere beneath all that, so far below that she could barely see it, there were the darker twin emotions of addiction and obsession.

"Maker's breath," he groaned. "Evelyn!"

She clutched him tighter, still perched precariously on the edge of his table, legs wrapped up around his hips. Cullen grabbed her bottom and withdrew slightly before slamming back into her. She cried out involuntarily, relishing the line between the pain of his roughness and the pleasure of being filled by him. He began to find a rhythm in time with her bucking hips.

Evelyn began to moan, despite herself and despite the open door. Cullen's armor was rough against her bare breasts, but she found that the friction was just adding to her pleasure and excitement. There was a pressure building within her, and sank her nails into the flesh of his shoulders as he began to pound into her faster, and her breath became more ragged. His lips were at her throat, his hot breath coming out in short pants, and he bit into her neck to prevent himself to crying out.

"Oh..." She whimpered. "Don't stop, oh Maker, please...I'm so close...." 

Cullen redoubled his efforts, picking up speed until he was glistening with sweat. Suddenly, she felt waves of pleasure roll over her in spasms and she began to cry out louder. Her eyes flew open in surprise when he clamped his hand down over her mouth to muffle her moans, and this hint of violence was enough to send her over the edge. She groaned into his hand as she came.

He kept going, his own efforts to keep quiet beginning to fail as he started to moan. "Evelyn," he panted as the controlled rhythm of his thrusts gave way to something more frantic, "I'm going to...oh Maker...." Cullen slammed into her one final time and fell limply against her, his head resting on her shoulder, his breath hot and quick against her neck. She could feel him seeping into her, hot and wet. 

Gradually, their breaths slowed and Cullen nudged the side of her face with his nose. "Are you alright?"

She opened her eyes and leaned back, peering at him, trying to read the play of emotions across his face. "Wonderful," she said honestly. "I've been waiting for that to happen since you kissed me on the ramparts."

Cullen pulled out of her slowly, and she winced slightly as he left of trail of wetness across her thigh. "I suppose I'll have to call for a bath," she sighed as he turned away and stepped into his pants. When he turned back to appraise her nakedness, she raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Would the good commander like to join me?"

“Only if you can sneak me through the great hall and into your private chambers without anyone noticing,” he said, offering her pieces of her discarded clothing.

Evelyn snorted. “I’m pretty sure Leliana and Josephine have noticed already.” She pulled on her pants and shrugged into her torn blouse. “And if the rest of the inquisition hasn’t noticed, this look certainly will get their attention.”

“It’s gotten mine,” he remarked, and leaned down to kiss the bare strip of skin that her tattered shirt revealed. Suddenly, his head whipped to the crack in the door, and with three quick strides, he reached it and slammed it shut.

“Cullen! I know you’re there, I just saw you!” It was Cassandra, her Nevarran accent growing stronger with her irritation. “Why did you close the door? Are you using?”

“No, no!” Cullen said firmly, leaning into the wood paneling for good measure. “Just a little bit of privacy would be nice.”

“You sound like a guilty man,” Cassandra insisted. “Let me in.”

Evelyn, clutching the remains of her shirt, was about to dart through another one of his doors and dignity be damned, when, for the second time today –

CRASH.

They could see Cassandra’s livid face though a hole she had bashed in the door.

“You better let her in,” Evelyn sighed, resigned for the lecture that would inevitably come for fraternizing with the commander of the Inquisition’s forces.


	2. Preparations and Conversations

Cassandra's reaction had been magnificent.

"...soldiers cannot respect you as the Herald of Andraste if they knew you were fooling around with the commander!" Cassandra's hand whipped up when Cullen opened his mouth to interject, and she pointed at him menacingly. "Be silent! Leliana's spies have already spread rumours about the two of you kissing in public places!"

"Andraste herself was a married woman and had children," Evelyn pointed out, determined to be reasonable. "I trust you know where babies come from?"

"Blessed Andraste herself was married and in an honourable state when she bore her daughters!" Cassandra sputtered. 

"Then perhaps you've heard of Shartan?" Cullen said conversationally. "Her elven lover? I think it would be far more scandalous for the Inquisition if Evelyn took on Solas instead."

She could almost see the vein throbbing at Cassandra's temple. “You are being foolish, and I can see that you will not be convinced. You will be more discreet." She pronounced haughtily. "You will not let rumours of this affair pass the walls of Skyhold, and you will not let this hinder your duties.” 

“Leliana and Josephine sent me along to play with Cullen, just so you know,” Evelyn said. 

Exasperated now, Cassandra managed to utter a wordless growl, and left them, slamming the broken door behind her.

“She’s right, you know,” Cullen said, bending down to retrieve his lion fur cloak and draping it over her modestly. “You look utterly sinful.” The fur smelled like him - woodsy and leather, but there was also another scent, sharp and metallic, something almost electric. 

It was lyrium, she thought. Had he been using recently, or was this just a leftover scent clinging to his clothing? 

Cullen touched her cheek. “I better get to work,” he said, looking around the room and sighing at the mess. “Travel arrangement from here to Denerim will be complicated. I will likely have to travel to Jader to look at ships for the journey.” 

“I’ll send someone to clean this up for you,” she offered, picking up documents and setting it back on his desk. 

“After you’re dressed,” Cullen said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips. “I wouldn’t want further rumours flying about Skyhold.”

Evelyn held back a snort, thinking about the chatter she overheard from some Orelsians in the great hall not a day ago. The lure of command... noble names, classically arousing in every sense…could you have guessed at such a pairing? Trust the Orlesians to focus on romance and not Corypheus. 

She left through a side door, thinking that she would go up to the main hall from the kitchens, therefore bypassing Varric and most of the great hall’s prying eyes. Evelyn was halfway through the underground dining room when a soft, hesitant voice floated to her from behind a column. 

“Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger, when you hold him.”

Evelyn was startled. “Say that again, Cole?”

"He is quiet, behind the noise. The little bottle makes him shake, but he tests the chains." Cole slipped out from his hiding spot. “But it’s okay, because you’re helping him.”

“You mean Cullen.” Evelyn said, suddenly understanding. “Is he in pain?”

“He’s better now.” Cole lifted the brim of his hat and peered shyly at her. “You replaced the song. He forgets the chains when he’s inside you.”

“Maker’s breath! What are you saying?” She was mortified. It wouldn’t have surprised her if it were Varric or Iron Bull or even Dorian that had been spying, but Cole seemed too innocent for that, even if he were a spirit. “Were you watching?”

“Dorian drew me a diagram, but I couldn’t tell from that.” Cole fumbled in his pockets and retrieved a large crumpled piece of parchment, which he unfolded and handed to her. To her horror, it depicted a series of numbered positions between a suspiciously curly haired male figure and what she could only assume was herself. “You did number six. I can see it better now.”

“Don’t…ever…show this to anyone else!” Evelyn said, handing it back to him when he reached out for it, but wishing she could burn it instead. “And you’re not allowed to watch anymore!”

“The Iron Bull added number eleven,” Cole pointed it out to her, and she gasped when she saw the riding crop. “He says the pain can make it feel better, but I don’t understand, pain is bad.”

“Have Iron Bull explain it you again,” she suggested, edging around him to the staircase leading up, even more desperate now for a bath and a large goblet of wine. “Maybe he’ll let you beat him with a stick, and you can see how some people like pain.” 

"Thank you," Cole said. "That's a good idea."

"I’ll see you later, Cole.”

Evelyn spent the next several days dodging dirty looks from Cassandra and avoiding Dorian’s lewd comments about strapping ex-templars. Harder to avoid was Cole, who kept appearing unexpectedly and asking if she had yet tried any of the various positions depicted on his parchment. Since Cullen had journeyed to Jader and was due back shortly, this led to a very trying conversation on how two people had to be physically together to perform those acts, and how it didn't count if they occurred while you were dreaming in the fade.

“Cullen dreams of you,” Cole volunteered. “A face, too bright, burns inside a chest that is too full. Wanting to hear the song and wanting to touch her, wanting, always waiting.”

“Do you often go to the fade?” Evelyn asked, trying to change the subject.

“NO.” He said loudly, looking scared. “No, no no. The fade is wrong for me. No, not the fade, in between, where I just see dreams. I want to help, and Cullen has an old hurt.” 

Evelyn was tempted to pry further, but felt ashamed using Cole to delve into people’s secrets. Cullen would tell her, eventually, when he was ready to. Still, she couldn’t help but ask one question, just to be sure. “You’re not talking about lyrium, are you?”

“Not lyrium. Maybe lyrium. Maybe you. Desire. He fears the demon, so I follow him and make him forget.” Cole saw the shocked look on her face and added quickly, “Not here, only in the fade! He just wants to sleep with no nightmares!”

So it was a relief when Josephine’s messenger appeared, summoning her for a council meeting and giving her the excuse to leave behind this strange conversation. She hadn’t seen Cullen for days and just managed to give him a peck on the cheek before Josephine and Leliana entered, which brought everything back to business. 

“The clipper I inspected, the Sunstop, is usually commissioned to ferry goods and passengers travelling from Orlais to Fereldan and back,” Cullen said, handing over the contract for her inspection. “It is run by the Fereldan merchant’s guild, and it is in good repair. It should be a comfortable journey and will accommodate our horses, security detachment, and gifts for the King. The captain has chivalrously offered the use of his cabin to the Inquisitor.”

Their fingers brushed as she took the paper from him and she felt the touch resonate through her. His skin, however, was cold, and she knew this was a symptom of lyrium withdrawal. If nothing else, her recent talks with Cole proved that Cullen was hiding most of his struggle with the addiction behind a brave veneer of normalcy. “We’ll be sailing close to Ostwick,” Evelyn said, determined not to show her concern in public. “Tell me we’re not stopping to see my family.”

“The thought did occur to me,” Josephine admitted. “And your father has sent letters indicating that he would like to see you in Denerim.”

“Pardon me?” Evelyn said in a strangled voice. She loved and respected her family, but they were unceasingly meddlesome and were always trying to tell her what to do with her life. “Why would he be writing to you?”

Leliana was apologetic. “As your father, he was also issued an invitation for the celebrations in Denerim, and the letter he sent here was addressed to the ambassador.”

“So like him to follow protocol,” Evelyn sighed. “Well, it appears that I have no choice. But please, no long stops in Ostwick, or all my supposed relatives will come out of the woodwork and insist on accompanying us.”

“Oh, that will not be any trouble, Bann Aldridge is already staying in Denerim as a guest of the King,” Josephine said brightly. “He tells me he was making a pilgrimage to Andraste’s birth rock when he received his invitation.”

“That’s also so like Father,” she said. “I think this is the eighth time he’s been to see the rock. Very well, as long as he doesn’t try to marry to some nobleman while we’re there.”

Josephine raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I didn’t think you would be opposed to marriage.”

Cullen also turned to her. “Oh?” he echoed, his brow furrowed. He looked gobsmacked; apparently they had both held back from revealing their pasts in their entirety.

“I’m not, really.” Evelyn shrugged. “He tried to marry me off to Bann Oswin of Markham shortly before the conclave. I told him I’d rather become a chantry sister than marry that pompous idiot, and so he sent me to the conclave with Aunt Aldith to see if I really wanted that life. I think he was trying to scare me into accepting.” 

“Bann Oswin has a good reputation and is the eldest son despite his unfortunate taste in fashion,” Leliana said thoughtfully. “It would have been a advantageous marriage, particularly for the youngest daughter of a family. I hear he’s handsome, too, underneath all those feathers.”

“Bann Oswin has no bearing on the business at hand,” Cullen said loudly. “We were about discuss security while in Denerim, I think?”

“While you’re not nobility, Cullen, I think daddy might approve,” Leliana said mischievously. “Being a self-made man shows a certain degree of determination, don’t you think, inquisitor? And being commander of the inquisition is a recommendation in itself. Your salary is certainly high enough that you could buy a title when all this is over…and Lord and Lady Rutherford does sound wonderful when you say it out loud.”

Cullen ignored her, but his ears had turned a telling shade of red. “We have cleared out the Venatori mages out of the royal place, but we should remain alert. With so many noble houses attending, this event could attract unwanted attention. I have personally selected the honour guard that will accompany us, and the King has assured us he will additionally provide us with a portion of his own royal guard.”

“How kind,” Evelyn said, determinedly following Cullen’s example. “We must remember to thank him.”

“I have taken care of all the gifts and thank you letters,” Josephine said. “Might I recommend taking along Vivienne, Varric, and Dorian as members of your party?”

“Why them?” Evelyn was curious. “Cassandra is in line for the Neverran throne, so I thought that the royal connection might be useful.” If she ever forgives me for my flagrant dereliction of duty and honour, she added mentally.

“The Pentaghast family has a long standing blood feud with the Kendells of Denerim over the rights to some dragon bone, so I think it is wisest that Cassandra abstain from this journey.” Josephine said delicately. “Vivienne, of course, is familiar with court politics, and Dorian and Varric are, ah, the most civilized of your party after that.”

“As long as they agree, I have no problem with them attending.” she said. “In any case, it would be a good idea for Cassandra to stay and manage Skyhold while we are away. I can’t imagine what Iron Bull would do to this place if we left him alone.”

“Then I think that’s all the business for today?” Cullen asked, glancing around at the table to check for assent.

“The inquisitor is due to meet the seamstress,” Josephine said, checking her writing tablet. “And the jeweller as well. She will need to be fitted for a coronet.”

“Just how much exactly is this costing the inquisition?” Evelyn asked incredulously. “We could put the funds into, well, almost anything else.”

“You are the daughter of the foremost Bann of Ostwick.” Josephine said sternly, frowning at her. “The Herald of Andraste, and the High Inquisitor. You need to be able to denote your status. We will not have a repeat of what happened at Halamshiral, where the court questioned your status and nobility. Vivienne and Leliana agrees, and I’m sure Cullen understands the importance of this as well.”

“Of course,” he said quickly under Josephine’s hard gaze.

“Very well,” Evelyn said. “Cullen, come rescue me if I’ve not been released by supper time.”

However, it was long past supper time and late into the night before Cullen finally appeared in her rooms, looking harassed and bearing a large covered platter. 

“They got to me too,” he said by way of explanation. “Dorian and a tailor ambushed me in my office, and stuffed me into several dress uniforms. I think Dorian was enjoying the view a little too much, especially when the pants came off.” Cullen looked at her again, and then around at her quarters. It was strewn with patterns and large rolls of fabric, while a seamstress was busy pinning up the hem of the ivory gown she was wearing. On her desk, there was a large selection of crowns, quickly escalating from a simple iron band to a monstrosity with several arches that was dripping with jewels. “But on the whole, I think I was lucky.”

“Please tell me that’s food,” Evelyn begged. “Vivienne wouldn’t let me eat a bite.”

Vivienne smiled at her warmly. “My dear, you’ve been so patient, and I hope you do understand the importance of being fitted properly for your gowns. We can’t have you looking like you’re wearing a bag simply because you wanted to eat.” She snapped her fingers, and another woman appeared at her side, bearing a large coronet. “Let’s show the commander how utterly dignified you look with this on.” She stepped in front of Evelyn and placed the coronet on, adjusting her hair to flow around it, then stepped back to where Cullen stood. “The effect is magnificent, don’t you agree?”

Evelyn smiled at him faintly. She suddenly bore a striking resemblance to a triptych painting of Andraste had seen as a child in his chantry. The crown was simple polished gold, and the prong in the middle rose far over her forehead, ending in a point, surrounded shorter prongs of the same shape. It looked like half a sun was rising from the top of her head. Together with the cream gown, she looked serene, remote, and powerful. She didn’t look like Andraste’s herald, she looked like Andraste returned. Cullen’s mouth opened, but he was unable to form words. There was a warm swell of emotion in his chest when he looked at her, and he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. 

“That’s what I thought too,” Evelyn said, a touch smugly, before turning back to Vivienne. “Now, please, may I eat?” 

“As you wish, my dear. Now that the commander's here, I don't think you'll be able to focus anyhow,” Vivienne said, and motioned to the seamstresses, who began to file out with her. “Come along ladies, we’ll see to my wardrobe next. I saw some divine watered silk, and I think the inquisition can afford to bear the expense with the narrower Fereldish skirts…”

When they were alone, Evelyn gingerly removed the crown and set it aside, admiring it for a moment. “I suppose I better take this off before I do something like sit down and ruin it.” she said, brushing her hands down the skirt of her gown and enjoying the glide of the fabric. “But it’s rather nice to feel like a female again.”

“I’ve never seen you in a dress before,” Cullen said, unable to take his eyes off her as she moved to the desk in a ripple of silk and lifted the lid with undisguised glee. “It’s most becoming.”

“Pheasant!” she exclaimed happily, tearing off a morsel and eating it quickly, all but forgetting him. She was halfway to her third bite when Cullen caught her wrist from behind her, and she dropped the piece of pheasant back onto the plate in surprise. 

He raised her hand to his mouth and sucked the grease slowly from her fingers. “You said yourself the dress should come off before you ruin it,” he said huskily into her ear, caressing her bare shoulders before moving his hands to the laces at her back. "Vivienne would be most annoyed if you spilled food on it." 

“I did say that, how careless of me.” Evelyn agreed, her breath beginning to quicken as she felt her bodice loosening. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back into Cullen’s chest as his hands moved lower and began untying her skirt. “You’re awfully good at removing women’s clothing. Have you done this before?”

His chuckle rumbled through her back. “My sister forced me to lace her up every morning, so working backwards from there…”

The skirt fell away and she was letting standing in a corset and silk slip. She flinched when he ran his icy hands down her arms, and he stopped to look at her questioningly. “Cold hands,” she explained. 

“That can be remedied,” he said, lifting her easily from where she stood and setting her down lightly in front her fireplace onto a plush red rug where it was pleasantly warm. Cullen got down next to her, stretching out to his full length and leaning on his elbow. He kissed her, gently at first, and then more urgently when he felt her respond. She opened her mouth under his in a moan when his hand trailed down her front, stopping to brush the tops of her breasts before moving down lower between her legs. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured into her lips. “I’ve missed this.” He slipped two fingers inside her and began to stroke, in and out, slowly. 

Her lips parted in another moan. “Don’t stop,’” she said, clutching at his chest. “Don’t ever stop.”

Cullen disobeyed with a small chuckle, and gave her a small push so she tumbled onto her back. “I have something better in mind,” he said, now working on the stays of her corset. A wave of cool air hit her bare chest as he pulled the garment away and thew it into a pile of clothing behind them. Her nipples were already sensitive, and when Cullen leaned down to take one into his mouth, her eyes slid shut and she was floating on a wave of pleasure and sensuality. 

She could feel Cullen shifting down her body, licking and kissing and nipping at her as he went. He stopped to bury his face in her belly, breathing in the scent of her skin while his now warmer hands stroked at her hips and waist. He began to move lower still, parting her legs with his callused hands, kissing down one thigh and back up the other until - 

“Andraste’s flaming sword!”

Her hips had bucked up as Cullen tongue slid from the inside of her thigh, pushed into her wetness and began to tease at her nub. He reached up and grasped her breasts, rolling and pinching at her nipples until the mixture of overwhelming sensations had her nearly sobbing with pleasure. Unable to stop herself, she reached down and grabbed his hair roughly, pushing his face further between her legs. He responded with more intensity, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder and increasing the pace his tongue had set, moaning into her as he did. 

The vibration from his wordless groan sent another shockwave of sensation through her and she thought she was nearly about to fly apart when Cullen emerged, his lips wet and slick and his eyes darkened in lust. “I need to fuck you,” he said hoarsely, and reared up over her, pulling desperately at his belt. When it fell open and his pants came off, he wasted not another moment and slammed into her, beginning to pant as he set a new, punishing rhythm with his hips. 

He leaned down and kissed her, and she could taste herself on his lips, wet and salty. Cullen began to moan, burying his face in the side of her neck now, kissing her harder now, licking her, and sucking at her skin. She could feel her muscles stiffening, leading her on to a climax, and when it finally came, she dug her fingernails in to the hard flesh of his buttocks and cried out in ecstasy. He followed her soon after, slamming his hips into hers for a final time with such force she was jolted further up the rug, and collapsed onto her with a soft groan. 

They lay there for a moment, their heartbeats racing together, their breaths shuddering together, and she could feel his eyelashes tickling her cheek as he lay on top of her. After several minutes, as the sweat cooled their bodies, Cullen gently lifted her and carried her towards the bed, wrapping them both in her thick blankets. 

She lay back in his arms, gazing up into his eyes. There seemed to be too many emotions playing across his face at once, and she could tell they conflicted with each other. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered sleepily, turning over and snugging into his chest. 

Cullen brushed a strand of hair from her face, watching her eyes fall lower and lower, until they were shut and her breathing even. “I was thinking that I’ve fallen in love with you,” he said quietly. “And it scares me.”


	3. In the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that this chapter contains a scene of dubious consent...look away if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable.

Evelyn woke up, shivering, to find that the fire had died sometime in the night. She sat up quickly and looked over to where Cullen had been sleeping next to her, but the space was empty, and it was still dark. She could just make out Cullen on the balcony, dressed only in pants, leading over the rail and looking down into the mountains. The hair on the back of his head was messy, as if he has been running his hands through it. 

She stood up, wrapping a warm blanket around her nakedness, and wondering how long he had been awake. “Can’t sleep?” she asked, hesitating at the door. 

Cullen glanced back at her and shook his head. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his brow were etched with lines of pain. “I have bad nightmares, and without lyrium, they are worse.” When he saw the apprehension in her gaze, he reached out an arm to her, and she drifted over to stand by him at the railing, leaning into his side. “I don’t want to worry you.”

“Let me worry about you a little,” Evelyn said, and then she gave a short, pained laugh. “That’s all I can do, actually. I know you’ve given up lyrium, and I know that it gives you pain, but that’s all you’ve ever told me.”

He recoiled slightly. “I’ve never told anyone what truly happened to me at Fereldan’s Circle, and then at Kirkwall,” he said in a low voice, and she could see the naked fear and panic in his eyes. “I’m not proud of the man I became back then. The anger blinded me for years…sometimes I’m still angry now. That terrifies me, because what if that was my true self? What if I can never go back?”

“You can tell me,” Evelyn said steadily, reaching out and gripping his hand. “I will listen, and I will not judge you.”

Cullen looked down, unable to her meet her eyes, but tightened his hold on her. “I was assigned to Kinloch Hold after taking my vow, and I served under Knight-Commander Greagoir during the blight in Fereldan. What do you know of this time?” 

“Not a lot. What news we received in Ostwick was kept from me because I couldn’t have been more than ten at the time. I know we had a summer home on the coast of Amaranthine that was destroyed by darkspawn, and Father refused to send people rebuild because he was afraid of the taint.” She said, her words sounding trivial to her own ears. 

“The Senior Enchanter, Uldred, summoned abominations and demons to take over the tower when it was revealed he was working Loghain Mac Tir. All the templars…all my friends, were slaughtered.” His voice broke, and he took a breath to calm himself. “I was the only one left. They tortured me, sent a desire demon to tempt me…they tried to break my mind. I found out later a desire demon had taken one of my friends, and he too was killed.”

Evelyn remained still and silent, unable to find words of comfort in her horror.

“Aedan Cousland and Alistair Theirin saved me.” He said finally.

“The Hero of Fereldan and the King of Fereldan,” she whispered. Even tucked away in Ostwick, she had heard of their deeds. She had jealously watched her elder brother play endless varieties of the Hero and the Archdemon throughout her childhood, while she had been relegated to embroidery with her governess.

“I counselled them to kill the remaining mages in the tower.” His voice now became flat and emotionless, although his hands were shaking. “I was scared they had all turned to blood mages. I could not abide the thought they could summon a demon or become an abomination themselves at any moment. They refused me. So did Greagoir.”

“But the rest were not blood mages?” she asked. 

“No.” Cullen said, and he finally met her eyes, anguished. “That’s part of what haunts me. What if they did call for the Right of Annulment? What if they listened to me, and innocent people were slaughtered because of my fear and prejudice?”

“But it didn’t happen, and there’s nothing to blame you for,” Evelyn said. 

“That’s not all.” Cullen pulled away suddenly and began pacing across the balcony, clenching and unclenching his fists as he went. “Greagoir sent me to Kirkwall soon after, because of my anger. I was too angry and too harsh on the mages, and he hoped the distance would soften my attitude, but he was wrong. He didn’t know Knight Commander Meredith.”

Evelyn gasped, feeling sickened when she remembered hearing of the woman’s descent into madness. “We did hear of her in Ostwick.”

“She gave me my apprenticeship in cruelty, and I became her Knight Captain.” He said, his voice hard. “She knew what had happened to me in Ferelden, she saw how I hated mages, and she used me to enforce her harshness in Kirkwall. She kept the worst of it from me, but I obeyed her without question. I believed she was right when she said that all mages were cursed. I was a fool.”

“And yet you asked her stand down. You stood between her and Hawke.” She said staunchly. She had gathered that much from reading The Tale of the Champion, and Varric had confirmed that is was mostly true and hardly embellished. “That was brave of you.”

“Brave? I was a coward!” He roared suddenly, making her jump. Cullen strode over and grabbed her upper arms roughly and shook her. “Don’t you understand? I was a monster! I just closed my eyes and obeyed, and so many people died. The Chantry in Kirkwall would never have been blown up if only I stopped the abuses against the mages in Kirkwall sooner. The circles wouldn’t have rebelled, Divine Justinia would never have called for a Conclave, Corypheus wouldn’t have shown up, and you…you never would have…” his voice trailed off in a strangled sound. 

She felt tears burning hotly in the corner of her eyes, both from the force of his grasp and from the shock of what he was saying, and continued where he trailed off. “I never would have attended, and there would have been no Inquisition. We never would have met.”

“It would have been better for Thedas.” Cullen whispered brokenly. Realizing he was hurting her, he let his arms fall limply to his side. 

“You’re wrong.” She said, her voice low and fierce. “You weren’t the Knight Commander, so it wasn’t in your command to change things. From what I hear of the circles, they would have rebelled anyway, and Corypheus would have found some way to show up even without the Conclave. The fate of the world isn’t on your shoulders, Cullen.”

“Only because it is on yours now,” he said heavily. “And I am sorry for that.” 

“It was not in your control.”

“That’s why I gave up lyrium. It’s one of the few things in my control, and after what happened in Kirkwall…I will not be bound to that life any longer.”

Cullen was agitated again, his voice growing louder until he was nearly shouting. “I thought giving it up would be better, that I would regain some control over my life, but these thoughts of taking it won’t leave me! I swore myself to the Inquisition! I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry…I should be taking it!” 

“You will not,” she said, drawing herself to her full height and looking at him square in the eyes. “You’ve come too far.”

“It’s relentless! How you could even begin to understand what it feels like?” he roared. “Cassandra has my store, and she will give it back to me!” He brushed past her, storming towards the stairs. 

“Cullen, no!” Evelyn followed him, tripping over the edge of the blanket and nearly falling. She caught up to him at the bottom landing and grabbed his arm, hoping to pull him back. He was so strong that he began pulling her in his wake instead, and she tripped again. This time, she did fall, and when she got up painfully, he had finally stopped, gazing down at her. Up close, she could see he had broken out into a cold sweat, and his eyes were fevered. 

“I don’t have a choice,” he growled at her. ”Nothing can help me now.”

Recalling Cole’s previous words to her, and remembering how Cullen clung to her so desperately when they made love, she took a deep, steadying breath. “Can’t I?”

Cullen reached out to her with shaking fingers and touched her hair, running his fingers through them lightly before clenching his hand into a fist, using her hair to pull her head back so she was forced to look up at him. “I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never wanted anything so badly as how I want you now, even lyrium. But you’re the Inquisitor, and we’re at war. How long can this last? It terrifies me to think I could lose you…this is why it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anyone at all in my life.” His voice was rough, almost angry. “I wouldn’t survive the withdrawal if I lost you.”

“Just don’t go to Cassandra now,” she pleaded. 

“And take you instead,” He said it like it was a curse upon him. The expression on his face was tortured, then it hardened. Almost snarling, he wrenched her around and pressed her front up into the stone wall, snatching the sheet from her hand so she was naked. The stones were rough and cold against her bare flesh, and she shivered, struggling to back away from it. He laid his hand on the flat of her back and shoved her into the wall. She gave a cry of surprise as the breath was knocked out of her. 

“Cullen, I - ” she started, and then stopped, having no idea what she meant to say. She heard the rustle of fabric behind her, and then felt the hard length of him push into her back. 

“You wanted this," he breathed into her ear when he felt her struggle. He bucked his hips into her backside, pushing himself against her, forcing her forward.

"Yes..." Evelyn admitted slowly. Why was she hesitating? She didn't want to admit it, but he was scaring her. The look in his eyes was too wild, and even though she had previously enjoyed some roughness with Cullen, he seemed to be verging on violence now.

Her hands were in front of her chest, affording some protection from the wall, and now he pulled them above her head, pushing her palms flat against the wall. She could hear his breathing accelerate as he pushed her feet apart and pulled her hips back towards him.

She stifled a gasp when he forced himself into her with a hard groan. Evelyn wanted him, and wanted to help him through the lyrium withdrawal, but not like this. Cullen's fingers were digging painfully into her hips, pulling her back in time with his thrusts. Their flesh slapped together with each of his strokes, and he was grunting with the effort, but she was silent and frozen. She felt no pleasure, only a dull friction between her legs and a growing feeling of panic in her chest. Frantic to stop him now, she grabbed at his hands, trying to push them off her.

"You asked for this," Cullen whispered to her, his breath hot in her ear. He pulled her hands back over her head again and this time pinned her there with his own hands. "And I need you..." 

"Not like this," she pleaded, choking back a sob. He slid a one hand down her front and between her legs, stroking between them, gently rubbing at her clitoris. Despite herself, she began to feel a warmth spreading through her belly, and she bit her lip, now unsure if she wanted him to stop or keep going. 

“Come for me,” he said hoarsely, increasing the pace both his fingers and hips. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

He’s not going to stop, Evelyn realized suddenly, shutting her eyes and letting the sensations take over, hoping he would finish soon. The motions were just mechanical, and although she could feel her body move with his every thrust, she felt empty and disconnected. She could feel his movements grow more frenzied and with a groan, he gave a final thrust and fell still, his shoulders heaving. She could hear his heart pounding against the back of her head, and felt a growing wetness between her legs. She wished she could clean herself up; she felt used and dirty.

After several long moments, he pulled out and gently spun her around to face him, cupping her face in his hands and scanning her face. “Didn’t you enjoy that?” he asked finally, when he saw the disquiet in her eyes. 

Cullen’s face was guileless, full only of concern for her. She wished she knew what to say. She was embarrassed and resentful, because her body had begun to betray her, and she was left feeling achy and unfulfilled. “Why didn't you stop?” she asked. 

“You didn’t say…” he shook his head, perturbed. “I wasn’t aware that you wanted me to.”

To her horror, Evelyn felt hot tears forming behind her eyes. She didn’t want to cry over this, and blinked hard to dispel them. He was watching her closely and saw, and this made her angry. “I tried to push you off,” she hissed. “I was trying to get away! You were too concerned with getting your next fix that I suppose it all but blinded you!”

Cullen dropped his hands from her face as if her skin had scalded him, and she could see the realization slowly dawn in his eyes. “Forgive me.” he said, and his voiced cracked. “I didn’t know…I didn’t understand, you had asked me to make love to -“

“That wasn’t making love, you were using me like a whore!” She became infuriated when she felt a tear begin to roll down her cheek. She never cried; one of the few things her mother taught her before she died was not to let others see you upset. Evelyn snatched up her sheet, quickly blotting her eyes on it before covering herself with it. 

His face was white. “I swear to the Maker that wasn’t what I intended,” he tried to touch her arm, but she shook him off. 

“I’d like to be left alone now,” Evelyn said, close to a whisper. She had already been a mess of emotions, but seeing the rejection in Cullen’s face made her feel guilty on top of the anger and shame. Why did she feel like the situation was her own fault?

“No, please, let me stay with you,” Cullen pleaded. “I don’t want to leave you.” He pulled her towards him and held her in an embrace, and she did not struggle. 

For a moment, she just breathed, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin. “You frightened me,” she admitted finally into his chest. “You were so nearly out of control. If you were taking lyrium…”

“Don’t say it.” Cullen’s finger’s twitched in her hair. "Don’t even think it. I don’t want to be leashed to that life again. I’d rather stand down from my post than to have anything to do with the templar order again.”

“You can’t stand down!” she said, looking up and meeting his eyes. “The Inquisition needs you…I need you.”

“As I need you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead carefully. “I am sorry for what happened. Forgive me?”

Evelyn looked into his face and saw the honesty in it. She saw the lines of worry by his corners of his eyes, the scar at his lip, and saw anew the hardships life had brought it. He had been through more than she had any right to guess at. Though she had not said it out loud to him, and barely could admit it to herself, she had fallen in love with him. She would stand by him and would do whatever it took to help him through his hardships. The anger and frustration had melted away as suddenly as it had arrived. “How could I not?” she asked, and as she said it, she knew she meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first work of fan fiction ever, so while I won't beg for comments, they are mightily appreciated.


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